


Found in the Forest

by HanguangMoon



Series: MDZS/Star Wars Fusion AU [2]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, 魔道祖师 - 墨香铜臭 | Módào Zǔshī - Mòxiāng Tóngxiù
Genre: Alternate Universe - Star Wars Fusion, Gen, M/M, Whump
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-16
Updated: 2020-01-16
Packaged: 2021-02-27 08:48:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,921
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22284361
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HanguangMoon/pseuds/HanguangMoon
Summary: The young man bows back, almost automatically, alarm turning to a friendly, yet cautious smile. “This one is heading back into the city myself. If you could follow me, I could lead you out. Would this be amenable to the Young Master?” He folds his veil up.Lan Xichen smiles again, in pure relief. “Thank you very much. I fear if I had not encountered the Young Master, I would be wandering around for a very long time.”
Relationships: Lan XiChen/Meng Yao
Series: MDZS/Star Wars Fusion AU [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1604047
Comments: 4
Kudos: 27





	Found in the Forest

**Author's Note:**

> Ah, shit, here we go again

When he comes to, Lan Xichen is first aware of faint light, dyeing his world a dark red through the filter of his closed eyelids.

_That’s strange, I usually awaken before the first sun rises…_

And then he smells the smoke on his own clothes and the pain of the burned cut on his upper arm where the blaster bolt grazed him – and remembers that he is no longer in the Cloud Recesses, no longer even on Gusu. He is somewhere far away, running from the Wen Empire on his uncle’s orders, keeping safe all the knowledge of their Sect, and his dying father’s saber on his belt.

His brother’s leg is broken and fate uncertain, the Cloud Recesses are overrun by the Wen Sect, and he had left his exhausted uncle to fight one of the most powerful Sith Lords in the galaxy, the heir to the Imperial throne in the Nightless City.

Lan Xichen cannot return home until his uncle sends for him. But will there be a home to return to? Or an uncle to send for him- _No._ He cannot think that way. He must do his duty as his uncle had said. He must have hope, and he must believe in his people – something he did not think would be difficult until now.

With his spiritual energy sealed – he may be hidden from harm – yet Lan Xichen is deaf and blind to the Force; he cannot sense his family, his Sect, nor any friendly or unfriendly person. How is Qinghe? Or Yunmeng? Was the attack on Gusu part of something bigger, and more widespread – or were they an example to the others?

Tears prickle at his eyes again, but he pushes them down. Now is not the time. He can mourn later, when he knows what to mourn. Now, in the dark – he must strive to survive, until he can come back, whether it takes days or years.

Slowly, Lan Xichen opens his eyes, and then unstraps himself from his seat, then goes to the porthole in the door of the pod to observe his surroundings before exiting.

The sky outside is gray, but it glows brightly despite that. It is raining. The place where the pod has landed seems to be some kind of forest with tall trees that have wide, flat, low-hanging leaves the length and width of his arm.

Lan Xichen wraps his arm with a strip torn from the edge of his outer robe, puts on an oxygen mask, hides his saber within his tattered, no-longer-white robes, and presses the button to open the door.

As the door hisses open, Lan Xichen is hit with the smell of rain through his mask, the sound of it drumming against the leaves, the feeling of warm humidity against his skin, the sound of some kind of birdcall-

After the silence of unconsciousness and being alone with his thoughts and anxieties, he has to take a few deep breaths to stabilize himself, before taking a step out onto the moist ground, out of the pod.

The ground is not muddy because of the many thick leaves that have fallen there, a layer against whatever lies underneath. Lan Xichen reaches up and wrestles a leaf off of a nearby tree, and uses it as an umbrella as he ventures forth in the rain.

If he goes long enough in one direction, he should reach a place where he can rest, he reasons. So he sets off, forward, through the moist leaves, listening carefully for the hint of anyone’s presence, and his hand hovering close to his blaster. Who knows? Perhaps despite his uncle’s best efforts, he was tracked here. It would pay to be cautious.

Unfortunately, with his spiritual energy sealed – Lan Xichen’s body is no longer quite as enduring as before; he is unable to do inedia, or go without rest for too long periods of time, though his physical strength is not affected too badly – and Lan Xichen suddenly feels all the more grateful for his uncle’s brutal training routines, remembering his uncle’s oft-spoken words, ‘ _If you have nothing else to rely on, you can rely on the strength of your arm._ ’

After what feels like hours of traipsing through the foreign wilderness, Lan Xichen decides to rest and conserve his energy. The gray glow from above does not change, and neither does the constant rain – and despite his best efforts, he is still wet and cold. He does not know whether the air here is safe to breathe, and the oxygen mask chafes.

Finding shelter against the bole of a tree, Lan Xichen sinks to the damp ground and fights the urge to sleep. His entire body aches with a bone-deep tiredness and the ache in his arm is a dull throb, difficult to ignore entirely. He focuses on it, hoping that the pain could help him remain sharp, yet at the same time hoping that it would not become infected. At least it’s not his sword arm.

Lan Xichen shivers. It really is cold… Why is he sweating? Hopefully not a fever… He pinches the bridge of his nose and tries to clear his head by reciting poetry. It does not help.

He begins one of the simplest breathing exercises he knows; slowing and regulating his breathing, first becoming aware of every inch of himself, then of everything around him – but he can only rely on his five senses, now that his spiritual energy is sealed and he can no longer sense the Force.

How strong was the seal? How long is it supposed to last? Could his uncle remove it from him at a great distance as he surely must be from home? He chases the thoughts from his mind in favor of emptiness and balance…

Awareness.

Calm.

Nothing but that-

There is the sound of shuffling leaves. Not of rain pattering on the leaf-strewn ground, but of- Of _footsteps_. By the sound of it, only one person, and not a particularly large one.

Lan Xichen’s eyes snap open, and his hand hovers over his blaster, as he soundlessly rises from a cross-legged position into a fighting crouch. His body is stiff and sore, but he silently thanks his uncle again for all the flexibility exercises he’d had to undergo ( _Though, copying the Sect Rules while doing a handstand was a bit too much, Uncle, really_ , he thinks, even now).

He remains perfectly still as the footsteps approach, peering between the trees towards the source of the sound…

A young man walks into the clearing, a basket on his back filled with some kind of roots. He wears a wide-brimmed, veiled sedge hat, and rainproof clothes – and though Lan Xichen watches him carefully, he does not see any weapons.

Slowly, he gets to his feet, ignoring the wave of dizziness that washes over him, and keeping down a cough that threatens to rise.

Lan Xichen’s rising is not terribly graceful, so the young man turns, alerted by the noise, raising the veil with one hand.

The face Lan Xichen sees then, is one that imprints itself on his memory. A pleasant, delicate, yet manly face – an expression of wide-eyed surprise and guarded caution. In his dizziness, Lan Xichen stumbles slightly when he meets the young man’s eyes. _An angel_ , he thinks momentarily, and then feels cold water trickling down his back, and shivers.

Lan Xichen catches himself and bows, slipping his oxygen mask off his face as he sees that it is not necessary. “My apologies, Young Master, I did not mean to startle you.” He smiles, a little embarrassed at the way he knows he must appear. “I… Seem to have gotten lost. Could this Young Master be troubled to tell me the way out?”

Though this embarrassment seems so out of place, Lan Xichen is grateful for it – it takes his mind off the things that have happened, and that might happen. And against the disapproving voice of his uncle in his head, saying, ‘ _Don’t be a fool, Xichen._ ’ Lan Xichen wants to cry a little – why does his inner conscience sound like his uncle?!

The young man bows back, almost automatically, alarm turning to a friendly, yet cautious smile. “This one is heading back into the city myself. If you could follow me, I could lead you out. Would this be amenable to the Young Master?” He folds his veil up.

Lan Xichen smiles again, in pure relief. “Thank you very much. I fear if I had not encountered the Young Master, I would be wandering around for a very long time.”

“This one was simply gathering _ru lv_ ,” the young man says, and this time his smile is a little more genuine. “I will be heading to the marketplace in order to sell it, and bring the leftovers back home.”

“If I am not mistaken, that is for the making of red dye?” Lan Xichen says, falling into step beside him.

“The young master is correct.”

Lan Xichen smiles. “My mother used this to dye her robes herself.” _Everyone wore white, but she never wanted to…_

The young man looks up at him, and his cheeks dimple in a truly genuine smile. “Mine, too.”

_No, really, an angel_ , Lan Xichen thinks, concentrating on not stumbling. After everything that had happened, this conversation, this person, is like a breath of fresh air – of a longed-for normalcy. He almost forgets that he is wounded and his spiritual energy is blocked.

“I am called Meng Yao. ‘Meng’ as in the first month of a season, ‘Yao’ like jade,” the young man says, still smiling. “Could I trouble the Young Master for your name?”

The feeling of normalcy evaporates. He’s still on the run. He must be cautious. The Empire cannot know where he is- “Lan-” he begins, then hesitates slightly, “Lan Que,” he makes up on the fly. “‘Lan’ as in lily magnolia, ‘Que’ as in sparrow.” His head is swimming, but he still tries to smile, keeping his back upright. _Wangji has always told me that I’m better at lying than he is – but that doesn’t really mean anything when I’m_ this _bad!_

Meng Yao smiles back, and his eyes narrow slightly in what Lan Xichen hopes is simply camaraderie and not suspicion. “And where is Lan-gongzi from?”

“Ah, you could easily tell I’m not from around these parts, Meng-gongzi? It must be because I am not dressed for the weather,” Lan Xichen laughs lightly, sweeping out his uninjured arm with its wet, tattered sleeve. He’s soaked through by now, and stifles a cough. “I am from Caiyi. The Gusu System.”

“On vacation?” Meng Yao asks, and Lan Xichen notes that he doesn’t mention anything about the Empire’s attack. The news must not have spread yet. His arm twinges.

_I don’t even know what planet this is! Please stop asking me questions! You’re too pleasant to be a spy of the Empire!_ Lan Xichen’s smile freezes, even as the contents of the Library Pavilion around his neck seem heavier than ever, and his father’s saber feels colder than ever within his outer robe. “Just visiting,” he says. “Is Meng-gongzi a local?”

“I was born here,” Meng Yao says. “I have only left the system once in my life.” He laughs, and it’s a little bit embarrassed.

“Oh?” Lan Xichen chases the subject, pushing a few leaves out of their way and holding them aside as Meng Yao passes. “Where did Meng-gongzi go?”

“Lanling,” Meng Yao says, and his smile is slightly strained.

Lan Xichen at least he knows he’s not in Lanling. He opens his mouth to speak again, but has to catch himself on the trunk of a tree with his injured arm to keep from falling as his vision blurs with dizziness. He hisses through his teeth at the pain, his breath catches, and he coughs – but he rights himself quickly.

Meng Yao notices. “Lan-gongzi, are you alright?”

“Very well, thank you,” Lan Xichen says, trying to catch his breath. He feels the salty tang of blood in the back of his throat, and tries to keep it down – coughing up blood in front of the angelic Meng Yao would not make a good impression.

“You don’t seem so,” Meng Yao notices dryly.

Meng Yao supports him by the elbow like an elderly relative, and Lan Xichen sighs at this treatment, trying to smile again. “No, really, Meng-gongzi – it is nothing serious.” _My lack of spiritual energy is catching up with me… I won’t die, but it will be quite inconvenient for a few days._

“Has anyone told _Lan_ -gongzi that you are a terrible liar?” Meng Yao says mildly, and puts Lan Xichen’s arm around his shoulders, hooking his own arm around Lan Xichen’s waist. “Please lean on me.”

“My brother says I lie better than he does,” Lan Xichen says, just as mildly, looking over at him with a slight smile. Lan Xichen wants to completely slump against him, but propriety and caution keep him back (perhaps also the fact that Meng Yao is significantly shorter than him – _after all, if I lean on him, won’t we both just fall over?_ ).

Meng Yao smiles back. “Your honored brother must truly be an awful liar, then.”

Lan Xichen shivers with cold despite the burning of his arm, but even as his vision blurs slightly, he looks Meng Yao in the eye. “I may be an awful liar, Meng-gongzi, but when I say I mean no harm, I mean it genuinely, with all my heart.”

Meng Yao smiles angelically. He has _dimples_ , and Lan Xichen’s heart does something strange. “The condition Lan-gongzi is in, even if you wished harm, you would collapse before you managed to fire your blaster.” He supports Lan Xichen as they walk forward. “Don’t worry, Lan-gongzi, I mean you no harm either.”

The forest ends rather abruptly, there is a long, rocky plain that stretches out – and on the horizon, there is a city, glittering in the drizzle and gray light of the sky. Lan Xichen has definitely not been here before, and he does not recognize the place at all – but it is a city where there are many people, so there must be some knightly order that would be willing to hide him from the Empire, right? Lan Xichen doesn’t want to rely on anyone, but at the same time, he wants to place all responsibility into someone else’s hands.

He coughs slightly.

“Just a little further. I have a little hovercraft hidden close by.” Meng Yao rubs his back soothingly.

Lan Xichen would be lying if he said he didn’t enjoy that feeling, but he still tries to smile and straightens himself out with all his strength. “Meng-gongzi is too kind-”

Meng Yao turns slightly to look Lan Xichen in the eyes. “Please allow me to live up to your opinion of me as ‘too kind’.”

“My benefactor is certainly persistent,” Lan Xichen says with a slight laugh as he is dragged forward once more.

Meng Yao doesn’t say anything, but his cheeks are slightly reddened from exertion. Lan Xichen tries to make himself lighter.

Finally, behind a curtain of large, wet leaves, Lan Xichen sees a small but gracefully aerodynamic craft with tinted windows, and red flowers painted over the roof and sides. Two painted mandarin ducks touch beaks on the back.

Meng Yao looks embarrassed. “It’s not technically _mine_ , it belongs to the establishment I work for, so I’m just borrowing it-”

Lan Xichen smiles. “It is hand-painted, is it not? The artist is very skilled.”

The slight embarrassment on Meng Yao’s face falters, and he smiles again. “This humble one cannot accept Lan-gongzi’s praise.”

Meng Yao quickly types in a code into the little panel on the side of the hovercraft, and the door opens. Lan Xichen is pushed inside, to sit on the second seat, and he leans his forehead against the cold glass of the tinted window beside himself as Meng Yao puts his gatherings in the back of the vehicle, then climbs into the driver’s seat.

The engine starts with a hiss, and the craft rises smoothly about a foot into the air, before moving forward. Lan Xichen watches the raindrops on the window begin to move sideways instead of roll down.

Through a raindrop, he can see the city growing closer. His delirious mind begins to philosophize, remembering his lessons with his uncle in the library, or the temple. _The whole city can fit into a raindrop. How many more raindrops are there?_ He faintly hears Meng Yao humming as he shifts gears, and the craft rises even higher into the air.

“The ground traffic is awful,” Meng Yao says. “Would you like me to take you to a doctor, or do you have someone to stay with?”

Lan Xichen blinks, trying to refocus his eyes as he looks at Meng Yao. _Caution. Right_. “No doctors, please,” he says. “Just… Anywhere is fine. You can just leave me at whatever your next stop is…” The memory drive around his neck seems to burn against his chest.

For some reason, it feels like he’s staring at Meng Yao through a long tunnel. It’s cold and his arm hurts. But the worst is, he feels so _empty_. Without the Force filling him, sharpening his senses and allowing him to be attuned to the world, he feels half-blinded.

Meng Yao looks concerned.

“Thank yo…u…” Lan Xichen manages to say politely, before his vision grows dark.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading!


End file.
